


Benadryl (When we ride on b-ches)

by LaurelSilver



Series: Victimised [2]
Category: 9lives (Band)
Genre: Blood, Bloodlust, Death, Gen, Kidnapping, Murder, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 18:49:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13394025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurelSilver/pseuds/LaurelSilver
Summary: "Itching for some f-ing killing and blood is my benadryl./That's when we ride on b-ches,"Gadjet & Deuce, When We Ride/Dead in Ditches.No benadryl is actually consumed in this fic.





	Benadryl (When we ride on b-ches)

**Author's Note:**

> This shit stars;  
> Truth (AKA the first one)  
> Big Deuce (AKA the second one)  
> Gadjet (AKA the third one/Tony Leonard/Bloody Count)  
> Victim (Bitch); anyone you want it to be. The only requirements are that they have lower legs, a head and enough hair to be pulled. Beyond that they can be anyone you hate. Call it catharsis. Gender doesn't matter, Victim is referred to as 'it'.
> 
> This was written on the following assumptions:  
> Big Deuce is the smallest of him, Gadjet and Truth.  
> Truth has short limbs. This is going off the picture of him on the HU wiki, where his arms are about the same length as the shirt he's wearing. It could have been a big shirt, but I couldn't find a better picture.  
> Truth is a good friend. Hufflepuff as fuck.  
> Victim (if you have someone in mind) doesn't have a stamp collection.
> 
> Just to be very clear;  
> 1\. I have not done, nor do I have any intention of doing, anything described in this fic. This fic is pure fiction.  
> 2\. I don't think Gadjet, Truth and Deuce have done, or have any intention of doing, anything described in this fic.  
> 3\. I do not encourage or condone anything described in this fic. This fic is pure fic. Recreating this fic, or anything similar, is illegal and immoral and very fucked up.  
> 4\. You are not obliged to read, finish reading if you start, or comment/kudos if you finish. There is no story here. It just mindless violence for no real reason.  
> 5\. Victim having any similarities to anyone real or fictional is unintentional.

They drove for hours, sharp corners that sent Victim crashing into the sides of the trunk, sharp stops that made the brakes screech, rough terrain that rattled Victim like a rag doll. Music filled the vehicle, rap with snare-heavy beats and hard rock guitar. The captors spat along, a nasal one taking most of the leads and his two friends hyping.

The car and the noise stopped, and the car doors slammed. The trunk flew open, and the one of the men gave Victim a wide smile and dragged it out by its hair. He was broad and a little swarthier than his friends, with a lumpy nose and ears. Victim screeched and howled, stumbling under the man’s grip. He threw it down and his smaller, toothier friend kicked it in the stomach. The third stood over it, scratching at his arm through his sleeve, moaning.

“Shit man,” the second one said, “Get a room.”

The first laughed, and the third flipped both of them the finger. Blood was seeping through his sleeve.

Victim reached out, grabbed a fistful of grass and pulled, dragging itself through the dirt. The second man stomped on its legs until it froze. He crouched down and fisted its hair, forcing it around to face him. He was scruffy, in need of a shave and a change of clothes, specks and splashes of old blood clinging to his shirt.

“Now bitch,” he said. His voice was nasal and arrogant. “When you’re screaming for help, this guy’s Gadjet, this guy’s Truth, and you can call me Big Deuce.”

“Please let me go, Big Deuce,” it begged.

“Nah, bitch. You’ve got some shit we need.”

“Money? I can get you money, please-”

“Don’t need your money.”

“It’s your stamp collection we’re after,” Truth said, and he laughed. Big Deuce laughed with him. Gadjet tutted, still scratching at his arm.

“I don’t have a stamp collection!” Victim wailed.

“He was kidding, you stupid fuck!” Big Deuce threw it down. He stood and kicked it in the side of the head. Victim rolled away with a grunt and curled in on itself.

“Can we fucking get on with it?!” Gadjet said. He was the palest and most proportionally accurate of the three. “I can’t fucking keep fucking waiting like this – fuck!”

“Fucking fucking fucking okay!” Truth said.

“It’ll be you next if you don’t fuck off!”

“Woah, shit!” Big Deuce said, “Just deal with this one, yeah?” he kicked Victim in the back.

“No!” Victim screamed, “Please, no!”

Truth grabbed Victim by the ankles and forced it to straighten out. Blood dribbled along its forehead. Big Deuce knelt on its stomach and held one of its arms as it tried to hit him away. Victim flailed and smacked at him, narrowly missing Big Deuce’s crotch and hitting him in the thigh. Gadjet dove over, grabbed the flailing arm and pinned it down. Victim screeched.

“Get in the fucking car, Truth!” Gadjet yelled.

Truth saluted and ran off. He slammed the car door behind him and the engine roared to life. The rear lights seemed to flat in the darkness, shifting as the car reversed, dim red gliding behind behind Big Deuce and getting closer and closer.

The car stopped a few yards away and Truth stuck his head out of the window. “We in line?”

Big Deuce shoved the arm he was holding to Gadjet, who pinned them both down together. He shifted down Victim’s body, kneeling on its thighs.

“Please please please let me go!” Victim sobbed, wriggling its pinned legs as much as it could.

“Looks like it!” Big Deuce yelled back, “Back it up now!”

“Floor it!” Gadjet howled.

Truth ducked back into the car. The brakes crunched, the engine revved, and the car shunted backwards. The back wheel ran straight over Victim’s shins. It’s bones crushed under the weight, crunching and flattening under its skin. Pain shot up and down its legs, feet spasming, and Victim screamed and cried. It pulled on Gadjet, his grip bruising its skin.

The front wheel followed, a few inches wide. Big Deuce had to dive over Victim as the car swung, mud shooting up his jeans. The wheel clipped Victim’s knees, crushing one kneecap and shoving the other up into his thigh.

The brakes squeaked, the car stopped, and Truth jumped out and scrambled over. Big Deuce sat up, pulling Victim with him. Gadjet followed, staring dazed at Victim’s head.

Truth poked at Victim’s crushed shin. The pain rippled and wouldn’t calm as Truth pulled away, adding a pressure point to the heartbeat throbbing in Victim’s legs. Blood was seeping into Victim’s jeans in random places and spreading through the tracked mud.

“Can’t fucking see anything,” Truth said.

“Oh my **god** my **legs**!” Victim screamed, “My fucking legs!”

“We shoulda stripped ya first,” Big Deuce said to Victim.

“Get off me!”

“Get the shears, man.”

Truth rolled his eyes and got up. Gadjet was still staring at Victim, leaning closer until his hot breaths were panting against the side of Victim’s face.

“Get him off me!” Victim yelled.

Gadjet closed the gap, latching his mouth around the dribbling cut on Victim’s forehead. He sucked hard, his lips pulling on the skin and tongue lapping desperately on the slit.

“Dude,” Big Deuce shoved at Gadjet’s shoulder, pushing him away, “You ain’t gonna get anything good like that.”

“I fucking **need** it!” Gadjet hissed and latched back on. He bit into the skin and sucked.

Victim yelped, curling its fists into Gadjet’s shirt and beating into him until the thin fabric tore. It continued beating and scrabbling, scratching at Gadjet’s bared chest.

Big Deuce reached in, wrestling its arms down and driving his elbow into Gadjet’s stomach. Gadjet grunted, tearing a chunk from Victim’s forehead as he pulled away. Victim struggled, almost landing a punch to Big Deuce’s chest. Big Deuce shoved Victim’s hands down, pinning them to its crotch with one hand and bitch slapping it with the other.

Victim’s head reeled. Big Deuce pulled it back upright as Truth came back over, a small pair of garden shears in his hand. Gadjet chewed on the piece of flesh and spat it out, unsatisfied.

“Would you focus?” Big Deuce snapped, “This shit is all **for** you.”

“I can’t,” Gadjet said, “I need it. I'm dizzy.”

“Let me go!” Victim yelled.

“I’m itchy,” Gadjet said, pulling his torn shirt off. Rashes clung to his skin, on his arms, his ribs, his stomach. Shallow scratches dripped on his chest and forearms. Small yellow boils sat in long clumps on his shoulders, elbows and under his arms. The skin was peeling, cracked and sore.

“The fuck, man!” Truth said, “Why didn’t you tell us it was this bad?”

“I did!” Gadjet said, “You said we had to wait!”

“Help!” Victim screamed, “Please help me! They’re torturing me, please! Help!

“Get on with it, man!” Big Deuce snapped.

Truth unhooked the shears and gave them a few test snips. He bent down and sliced through Victim’s laces, pulled its shoes off and tossed them away. Every jolt sent new pain through Victim’s legs, and it howled.

Gadjet grabbed Victim’s arm as it struggled and screamed, Big Deuce holding the other. Truth took the hem of Victim’s trousers, pulled it up and hooked one blade of the shears underneath. The fabric pulled on Victim’s skin as Truth cut. Victim screamed, legs shaking as fresh blood swelled out and crushed bones ground against each other.

Truth cut up the leg to the thigh, put the shears down and pulled the fabric aside. Underneath, most of the Victim’s lower leg was flattened completely, muscles shoved out of place, ligaments torn under the stress, skin split open in several places. Splinters of bone had forced their way out, white stalagmites in the red and purple.

Victim heaved, panted and screamed.

“You got the needle?” Big Deuce said.

Truth nodded and pulled something out of his back pocket. It looked like a hard-shell pencil case, dark blue with a white sticker reading ‘Tony Leonard’ along one side. Truth unzipped it and threw it open. Inside were a series of needles, capped, and empty vials all held down with elastic.

Gadjet groaned. Victim’s blood was smeared across his lower lip.

Truth pulled one of the needles out of the elastic and uncapped it. The hollow slither of metal glinted in the car’s headlights. Truth pressed a hand onto Victim’s knee and lowered the needle.

“Help!” Victim screamed, “Help me, somebody, please!”

A sharp sting in the base of Victim’s kneecap. Victim flinched, and agony flared as its flattened shin shifted. Truth let go of its knee and pulled the needle’s plunger. Victim’s blood filled the barrel, crimson bubbling behind the glass.

Gadjet let go of Victim and almost threw himself at Truth. Big Deuce grabbed Victim’s freed arm and held it down in the dirt. Truth pressed a thumb into Gadjet’s upper arm.

“Just fucking stab me!” Gadjet yelled, grabbing for the needle.

“i need a vein, chill the fuck out!” Truth said.

“Help!” Victim screamed.

Truth pushed the needle into Gadjet’s vein and pressed the plunger. Gadjet moaned, muscles relaxing. His head rolled back with a sigh. Victim whimpered. Gadjet panted, fists clenching and unclenching.

“Dude,” Big Deuce said, “You okay?”

Gadjet nodded.

“You need another shot?”

Gadjet sighed.

Truth shoved the needle back into Victim’s knee. Victim yelped and managed to raise its arms just an inch before Big Deuce shoved it back down.

“I don’t want another one,” Gadjet said.

“You need as much as we can get you,” Big Deuce said, “We don’t know when the next one’s going to be.”

“We don’t know where its been!” Gadjet smacked at Victim, and shots of pain burned in its legs, “We don’t what kind of shit these bitches have got!”

“This is the first time its been a problem! You ain’t caught anything from this!”

“Maybe I’m lucky.”

“Maybe you’re full of shit.”

“Gimme the shears.”

Truth grabbed the shears and shoved them in his back pocket.

“Gimme the fucking shears!”

“Two more shots first,” Truth said.

“No, gimme the shears!”

“No,” Truth pulled the needle out of Victim’s knee and grabbed Gadjet’s arm, “Shots first.”

“This is the worst fucking context for saying ‘shots first’,” Gadjet said, but surrendered his arm.

Big Deuce laughed. Victim squirmed underneath him as Truth pulled the emptied needle from Gadjet’s vein. Gadjet glared at Truth, wriggling his fingers.

“Help!” Victim screamed, “Help, please help!”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Gadjet yelled.

“Help!”

“Shut up!”

“ **Help**!”

Truth plunged another shot of Victim’s blood into Gadjet’s arm. Gadjet groaned and shoved Truth away.

“Shears.”

“Yes, sir,” Truth tossed the shears to Gadjet.

Gadjet grabbed the shears and opened them out. He smacked Big Deuce out of the way to straddle Victim at the waist. He raised the opened blades and swung down, slicing Victim’s throat in one swift move.

Victim choked, blood flooding its lungs and erupted from its neck. Gadjet dropped the shears and dove down, digging his fingers into Victim’s neck, driving his nails into the wound. He pulled away, blood drenching his hands and splashed up his face and body. He pressed his hands flush against his cracked chest and wiped down, crimson clinging to the cracks and boils as he massaged it in slowly, lips parted in a soft sigh.

Victim gurgled, choked and spat. Big Deuce and Truth sat, jaws dropped, Big Deuce half-covering his face, Truth’s hands raised to grab for Gadjet.

Gadjet forced his hands into Victim’s opened neck again. Victim moaned, gargled and its body spasmed before it fell still. Gadjet ran the blood over his chest in lazy circles.

Big Deuce flicked Victim’s face. “Hey. Hey, you.”

“I think they’re dead, man,” Truth said.

“Oh for **fuck’s** sake!”

Gadjet groaned and sighed again.

“What the fuck would you do that for!” Big Deuce shoved at Gadjet.

“It wouldn’t shut up!” Gadjet said.

“How are we supposed to make this look like a hit and run when you’ve slashed their fucking neck?!”

“I don’t know! I was desperate! You try living with this shit!”

“You’ve gotta control yourself!”

“I **can’t**! I kept fucking telling you it was getting bad and you wouldn’t fucking listen to me!”

“Because we can’t let you get caught!” Truth yelled, “You think they’ll get you this shit in prison? Let you you just splash around in blood like Báthory’s fucking boy-toy?”

“No,” Gadjet said.

“No. You’d be in solitary confinement until this...” Truth gestured down Gadjet’s bloody body, “Whatever it fucking is kills you. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Then we gotta keep this shit on the down-low, man. We gotta make em look like accidents.”

“Or frame someone else,” Big Deuce said.

“I know,” Gadjet said.

“We can’t risk getting caught,” Truth said.

“I know.”

Big Deuce clapped Gadjet on the shoulder and stood up. “We gotta do something about this.”

“Let we get these bottles filled,” Truth said, “You get our Bloody Count cleaned up, we’ll think of something.”

Big Deuce pulled Gadjet to his feet and dragged him back to the car. Truth sat on Victim’s stomach and dipped the needle into the wound. He had to move slower than he was used to, with no heartbeat to push the blood into the barrel. Big Deuce poured bottled water onto Gadjet’s torn shirt and passed the shirt and a pack of wipes to Gadjet. Gadjet wiped himself, the blood thinning and smearing over his torso.

By the time Truth had managed to fill three vials and give up on retrieving any more, Gadjet was mostly cleaned up, the red having sunk into his peeling skin and stained his flesh. He insisted that that meant his rashes were healing. Truth pulled his jacket from the back seat and wrapped it around Gadjet.

“How many you got?” Gadjet asked.

“Three,” Truth said.

“That ain’t gonna last me a week!”

“I know, but I can’t get much from a corpse!”

“We can fill a couple ourselves,” Big Deuce said, “Or we can get into Red Cross again. Or throw another party, that had you set for a month! We can find a bum, a whore, head down to Cali for an Undead fuckboy – we’ll find something for you. Chill, man.”

Gadjet huffed a laugh.

“It’s gonna be okay, man,” Truth said, “Come on, I’m gonna need some directing here.”

Truth got back behind the wheel of the car and swung it around in a circle. Gadjet directed him as he reversed and lined back up facing Victim’s body. After several minutes of adjusting, Gadjet nodded, dove out of the way and whistled. Truth slammed the pedal down. The engine revved and the car lurched forwards, wheel running straight over Victim’s skull with a bounce. Bone plates split open, soft brains spreading in the mud and clinging to the car’s back tyre as it passed over the thick, bloody mess.

Gadjet and Big Deuce wrapped the body in tarp and shoved it in the trunk. They dumped it on the roadside and let it roll into the ditch as they drove away. It was found by a hitch-hiker three days later, and written off by local police as a grisly hit-and-run. Someone brought it up at a party that weekend, and their friend Tony said he hadn't heard about it and gave them another shot.

**Author's Note:**

> Take ur meds kids.
> 
> I know 'Nacho' was also in the song, but I couldn't find a picture of him to go off, and then decided that 4 characters is enough or else it's just too busy.  
> i also know Truth has a DUI, I don't know if he's been banned from driving since there was a car chase and all sorts of madness. But honestly, being banned from driving would be the least illegal thing he's doing here.  
> I don't know how taking blood from a corpse would work, but I imagine it'd be difficult.  
> The "Báthory's boy-toy" is a reference to Countess Elizabeth Báthory de Ecsed, AKA the Bloody Countess. I recommend looking her up if you don't know who she is, super gory, 10/10, one of the 'bathe in virgin blood' OGs.  
> To explain the party, the guys get a bunch of people drunk/high enough to pass out or to at least have no clue what's going on, then retrieve blood from them. Yes, the party in the last paragraph is one of those parties, Tony is Gadjet.
> 
> I've got no idea what Gadjet's issue would be here. Maybe some sort of vampirism? I don't know, I need to research vampires more.  
> But on an interesting note, when I was looking up side effects of having too much blood (Polycythemia Vera) included skin itchiness and redness, dizziness, and shortness of breath. Sound familiar? Maybe anaemia and bloodlust amalgamated into this shit? I don't know, up to you.
> 
> And on that note, I will sign this fic off. Again, you don't have to review or kudos if you don't want. Go look at some pictures of kittens, that'll make you feel better.


End file.
